Womens Chat Forum - Self Talk

Ok... So. Firstly, let me say that I have no intention for anyone to read this. That doesn’t mean I’ll hate you if you do, it just means I don’t plan for you to. Why am I posting this then? Well.

I keep having nightmares, something I posted about in the Mental thread here, and they’re really worrying my roommates. They want to know what they’re about, so I told them it was none of their business. I must add here that they are my best friends; I’m just a quiet (though not at all mute) person, especially when things concern me. That, and there’s enough junk involving my family and other issues they know about, and based on that; I don’t want to be prodded about what my dreams are about.

But they want me to talk about it—in detail—with a few strangers. They know I posted somewhere about stopping my dreams, and suggested doing this as a possible solution. It’s more of a ‘getting it out’ thing than a discussion, but I won’t turn away at replies. For those of you still reading I’ll warn that I’m not keeping anything back, and some of it may be very disturbing.

Alright, here we go.

When I was very little, my mom always sent me to her friend’s house. See, her husband—the man who I was told was my father at the time—was a bad person. As in he was an abusive husband, and always hit me and my older sister. It still gives me the creeps to think about him. I only have one true memory of him.

It’s not very clear other than a few odd details. Back when we lived in an apartment, me and my little sister were sitting on some very cold mettle stars at night. I was holding my sister as she cried. In front of us, my mom was getting beat into the wall. I knew I was next, but I cared more to hold my sister than to be afraid. “Why won’t he hurt me” was what my sister said the most when we were little, because she thought if he would hit her it would make him do less to us. But that’s no biggy, it was just physical abuse.

So anyways, my mom’s friend. I pretended he was my dad because he beat the one at home. Plus, he gave me chocolate all the time. At his place I remember feeling wet in places I shouldn’t when I woke up many times. I would always pass it off as I peed a tiny bit; even though I never peed the bed. Sometimes I would sleep in his bed, sometimes the couch.

Then one day at my mother’s house, I had a nightmare. It was scarier than anything I had ever seen before. This man, whose features I couldn’t make out, was laughing and running this machine. Pushing all these buttons, things came at me on a conveyor belt. I couldn’t move. These things; ranging from burning light bulbs to knives, would be shoved into me in horrid places. Sometimes the man would be part of it; I had never seen a penis before but it was clearly some sort of hot-dog between his legs that was used against me.

I never slept with my mom before, but I went to her room this night. I told her about it. I’m not sure if she slept or ignored me. I never told anyone else ever again.

Then one day I woke up at my mom’s friend’s house. He was in the bathroom and my jimmies were down. Somehow I knew that he was the one that did it. What’s strange is, that even though most people seam to think that the ‘bad person’ warns kids ‘not to tell or their family will get hurt’, that was my first thought. I remember thinking that he was going to hurt my little sister if he couldn’t hurt me; just like my father. Even before he came out of the bathroom. This was why I didn’t tell at first.

After that, I laid there. It was safest to pretend to be sleeping. I learned very quickly that what I felt he was doing was true, even if it wasn’t right. It wasn’t hard to reason this was what caused my dreams. I knew he had been doing it for a long, long time. After all, he had baby sat me since I was born.

I don’t remember everything, just some specifics. Like, the way he kissed me, the way he rubbed his balls on me, exactly how he was when he rapped me. You’d think that if he rapped me in my sleep it would wake me up with how much it hurt, but I learned to tone it out. I could never fall asleep there again, so I was awake for all of it, but I never felt restless. Which was strange, because if I didn’t sleep at my mom’s house, I could start hallucinating within two days. Now I think it’s because of the state I went into as I toned him out, even if I was conscious of everything he was doing, I couldn’t feel it.

I mean, it’s hard to explain. I was pretending to be sleeping, so my eyes were closed of course. But I knew everything he did to me.. it’s just that other than the sensation of what was happening, I couldn’t put any pain to it. It was just happening.

I do have good memories of my childhood. Like, at one time, we lived at a farm. We raised goats and bunnies, plus we babysat a horse for a while. Me and my little sister would wake up early, steal peas from the garden, and dance butt naked to music on the top of the barn. We would run around the horse’s feet in figure eights, and it would stand still, hanging its head and trying to keep up with us. I really love my little sister.

Anyways. One night at my mom’s friend’s house, I remember there was someone else there. They were telling him what to do to me. The woman sounded like my mom, but I pushed the thought away. I deigned it so much I could have sworn the lady’s voice changed in one sentence. He had sex with her next to me when he was finished with me.

It happened more often until we moved to another state to get rid of my mom’s husband, who she had been seeing less.

Things stopped then. I was six, six and a half.

They got better actually. My mom met a great person. I mean, I was a bad kid; I had two federal warrants out for me by the time I was ten. One for stabbing my principle when she pinned me down when I had a headache because she thought I would go ‘violent’ due to my headache when I said I wanted her to stay away from me, and then I missed court, and another for domestic violence against my mom, which I also missed court for. But I don’t get very violent anymore, not unless someone seriously ticks me off and deserves it.

Then, that ‘great person’ got drunk and burnt our house down as what was supposed to be a joke. He always did silly things when he was drunk. But for this he went to jail. My mom didn’t wait for him, and got married to another abusive man. I hate him, but it’s no biggy. I have reason to believe—based on what his step daughters have told me and that he’s kidnapped and molested my little sister—that my mom might be back to her old ways.

You see, I talked to my sister briefly about what had happened. She said that later on, when we lived in the farm, mom was really dating the man who I thought was just her friend. I believe that she really was that other girl, but I can’t put it clearly. I keep having dreams about her voice instructing him.

My mom doesn’t believe my little sister when she says what her husband did to her. Just like she didn’t believe me when I was little, even if she could have been half asleep. So I think it was her.

Now the worry is that, my niece—who she lied about to get custody of—has possibly been molested by my newest step father. We can’t prove it of course. Just like the cops didn’t believe my little sister. Really, I hate the cops here for that. I’ve been arrested a few times just because my mom was better at lying than I was at not shaking while trying to tell what happened. Then, a week before I turned eighteen, the cops allowed my mom to kick me and my little sister out, along with my older sister, her husband, and her new baby.

But my mom kept my niece.

See, she was allowed to kick my little sister out because my little sister went to jail for something and now ‘belongs to the state’. My older sister and them have an apartment now, and I’m happy for them. My big sister is getting custody of my little sister, too.

I really worry about my niece. This is what has probably caused me to have so many more nightmares than usual. No one knows what happened to me, and just like my sister; I couldn’t prove it anyways. CPS doesn’t care, the cops can’t bother anymore, and who knows what else.

But my niece is really smart. I love her to death. When my mom got custody of her, my mom didn’t take super good care of her. So I ended up raising her until I was kicked out. I took her on walks and all sorts of stuff; but around the house she pretends to hate me because my mom says I’m evil and stuff. My niece just does it so my mom thinks she is on her side. So she’s smart, she’ll pull through like I did.

Anyways, I didn’t mean for this to turn into a life story. I feel better now that it’s out, even if you can’t pin it to me in person, and even if it’s too long for anyone to bother reading.

Too bad people are innocent until proven guilty, hugh?

I don't feel like rereading some of the things I wrote, so sorry if there are any typos.